


A Couple Of Rebels

by StarCannon



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Funny, Jealousy, Light-Hearted, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 13:57:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11060430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarCannon/pseuds/StarCannon
Summary: Scully comes back from vacation to learn that Mulder has made an unfortunate drunken decision.





	A Couple Of Rebels

She noticed immediately. Mulder stepped out to help with her bags and she saw it. A wince, a slight limp. His usual witty banter did what it could to distract her, but not well enough.

 

Initially, she decided against mentioning it. She had been out of town and on vacation for a week. She had her suspicions that Mulder, as usual, had not indulged in much productivity while she was away, but it wasn’t any of her business what he did instead. As long as it wasn’t tossing every pencil in the office at ceiling tiles, what did it matter?

 

But Mulder insisted on helping carry her bags. When the elevator doors opened in her apartment building lobby, Scully playfully nudged Mulder from behind with her carry-on, and -

 

“OW!”

 

“Sorry.” Scully refrained from true concern until she could determine whether or not her partner was pulling her leg. “I didn’t hit you that hard, did I?”

 

“No. No, I just...” There was a hesitation. Too much of a hesitation. “...basketball injury.”

 

Scully side-eyed him skeptically as they entered the elevator. “What happened?”

 

“I fell. It’s not a big deal. Just one of those things.”

 

Scully nodded, as though she bought this. Mulder tapped the number for Scully’s floor, one too many times. When he leaned over, she noticed his shirt hem lift.

 

“Mulder.”

 

She reached out to pull it higher, but Mulder frantically tugged it down and away.

 

“Is that - ”

 

“It’s nothing.”

 

Scully couldn’t stop the grin from spreading. “You got a _tattoo_?”

 

He sighed, the jig up. “ _Stop_.”

 

“I’m not doing anything.”

 

“You’re laughing at me.”

 

“I’m sorry!” She wasn’t sorry. _Mulder has a tattoo above his ass_. _We have matching tattoos_. She would never let him live this down. Never. “I just...this is very unexpected.”

 

“Well it wasn’t exactly planned,” Mulder explained, annoyed. “I was...not entirely sober at the time.”

 

“You need to let me see it.” She made another move for the shirt but he leaped out of her reach.

 

“No.”

 

“Mulder - ”

 

“There’s no X-File here, Scully. Just a lot of booze and regret.”

 

“What if it’s infected?”

 

“It’s not infected.”

 

“What if it gets infected?”

 

Mulder sighed again. She could practically see his resolve breaking.

 

“Fine.”

 

Using everything in her to contain her giddiness, Scully grabbed Mulder’s arm when the doors opened and tugged him to her apartment.

 

Once inside with her bags set down, Scully guided him by the shoulders to the bathroom. This was great. This was like goddamned _Christmas morning_.

 

“You went to a proper tattoo parlor, right?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“You _think_ so? Just how ‘not exactly sober’ were you?”

 

Mulder sat down on the toilet seat lid, back facing her. “I was with the Gunmen. They wouldn’t let up with the vodka shots. It was like happy hour at the Kremlin over there.”

 

She would have to secretly thank them for this hilarious happenstance later. “Well. Let’s see it then.”

 

Begrudgingly, Mulder undid his belt and shoved his pants a few inches lower. He then waited for Scully to do the honors.

 

Grabbing the hem of his shirt, her mind raced with what lurked underneath. The Lochness Monster? A UFO? ‘I Want To Believe’ in Chinese symbols?

 

But then the shirt lifted and Scully grew more confused with each mark revealed until the design was in full view. No cheesy aliens or phrases. Just one word. A name. In a swirling, romantic font.

 

“Priscilla.”

 

“Mm,” Mulder acknowledged. “It’s legible. That’s a good sign, right?”

 

The excitement previously thudding through Scully’s veins dissipated, replaced with a cold hard weight that sunk straight to her gut.

 

“How ‘bout it, doc? Am I gonna live?”

 

“Looks fine.” The words barely came out as she struggled to swallow the lump in her throat. “Pretty name.”

 

“Yeah.” Mulder chuckled, which oddly made what now churned inside her feel worse.

 

He let his shirt fall back down and stood to readjust his pants over his hips. “Anyway, there you go. Are we done mocking my life choices for today?”

 

Though the tattoo was now covered, Scully could not stop staring at the place she knew it was.

 

“Scully?” He had turned around now, watching her with concern.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“You just look...upset or something.”

 

Scully’s lip twitched with the effort it took to restrain herself. “I’m fine.”

 

Mulder tried reaching for her, but she brushed him off.

 

“I guess I’m just...surprised you apparently weren’t planning to tell me about this. About her.”

 

Mulder looked slightly taken aback. “About Priscilla? I...I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think it’d matter to you.”

 

Scully’s breath caught in her throat, his words stabbing her in a way she never knew they could.

 

“Oh. Okay.”

 

“Scully...”

 

Mechanically, she turned away and headed back to the living room. Her body began it’s usual post-trip process of kneeling down to unpack her bags, but her mind was reeling.

 

No. No, it shouldn’t matter. Of course it shouldn’t matter. He was just her partner. Her coworker. It shouldn’t matter at all. It was just that with each passing second she told herself this, a swell of emotions squeezed at her heart, deflating her spirit and making it very hard to breathe normally.

 

Mulder stepped into the living room. She tried as much as possible to ignore him. Not ignoring him appeared to make the squeezing feeling much worse.

 

“You really care that much about my tank?”

 

At this, Scully’s already unstable train of thought skittered and derailed off the track. Her head snapped up to look at him. Hands stopped their sorting mid-toss of a sock.

 

“Your what?”

 

“My fish tank.”

 

“Your fish tank.” Scully repeated the words emotionlessly, trying to process this bizarre turn of events.

 

Mulder’s eyes narrowed, no longer sure they were on the same page. “Priscilla was the guppy. That used to be Elvis. Until I realized she was female.”

 

Scully closed her eyes, the facts swirling together, reframing themselves. She covered her reddening face with her hands. “Oh my God...”

 

“I found her belly-up on Saturday. Then Saturday night...I don’t know, apparently I wouldn’t shut up about her to the Gunmen. Frohike suggested if I gave that much of a shit, there was a tattoo place right around the corner....yep, okay, there's the reaction I was expecting...”

 

The flood of contradicting feelings had bubbled up inside, bursting forth in the form of full-bellied Scully laughter. Mulder, not appreciating the humor of the situation to the same degree, did not join in.

 

“So you...what? You thought it was a woman?”

 

“Yes!” It was such a _relief_ to be able to say it out loud. She stood up, surprised by how suddenly light she felt. “Why would I have assumed it was a _fish_?”

 

“I thought I’d introduced you.”

 

“Unlike your steel trap of a mind, Mulder, I don’t keep minor details like pet fish names in my brain indefinitely.”

 

“So I’ve gathered.”

 

A silence fell and the newfound happiness Scully had acquired started to feel a bit too revealing. “I...I’m sorry about Priscilla. She was a very good fish.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“I should probably finish up unpacking.”

 

She turned to kneel back in front of the bags again, but jumped at the touch of Mulder’s hand finding hers. His fingers explored the center of her palm. Then the pulse point of her wrist.

 

“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

 

“What way?” She swallowed, unable to focus on anything other than how quickly the flutter of her heart beat beneath his touch betrayed her.

 

“Like we aren’t...” But he stopped, licking his lips to start over. “...like I wouldn’t have told you something like that.”

 

Scully curled her own fingers around his wrist, smiling. The flutter was in him as well.

 

“How long do you think before they’ll let me laser-remove this out of my life?”

 

She chuffed. “A couple months at least, I think.”

 

Mulder groaned, letting go of her to lift his shirt and eye the tattoo with distain. “Well, at least it’s not bikini season.”

 

“I think you should keep it.”

 

Mulder whirled around, brows lifted in surprise. “Dare I ask why?”

 

She looked down, as though considering. “Because...it’s weird, and funny, and endearing, most people won’t understand it.” With a shrug and a grin, she locked eyes with his again. “Kind of sums up who you are as a person.”

 

Mulder grinned back, the compliment not lost on him.

 

***

 

Years later, in the quiet of Mulder’s bedroom - a place she had just begun to grow accustomed to - Scully noticed it again. The soft sunlight illuminated his bare back as he slept on his stomach, limbs tangled in the sheets.

 

Next to him, tangled up in those same sheets, she let her fingers absentmindedly trace the cursive letters. It was satisfying to watching each line lead into the next. When finished, she looked up to meet Mulder’s heavy lidded eyes observing her.

 

“You kept it.” One side of her grin was buried in her pillow.

 

Mulder’s arm slid over to her hip, fingers tracing the circumference of her own tattoo. “We’re just a couple of devil-may-care, carpe-diem-ing rebels.”

 

“Mm.” She closed her eyes, indulging in the brush of his fingertips.

 

“You know, I was thinking of touching mine up a bit.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah. I bet if I found the right artist I could get the P-R-I-S-C-I changed to a D-A-N-A-S-C-U and the A to a Y...”

 

Scully’s eyes popped open in a seething glare _. “Don’t._ You. _Dare_.”

 

Mulder’s laughter rumbled against her hand still resting on his side. “But then it would constantly annoy the shit out of you, which would _really_ sum me up as a person.”

 

Scully’s hand abandoned his hip to wrap around his waist completely, pulling herself closer, their lips touching as she whispered, “Shut up, Mulder.”


End file.
